


Seeker

by TheStarsHaveAligned



Series: Fol [4]
Category: Code: Realize, Code: Realize ~Guardian of Rebirth~
Genre: F/M, Twisted love and some more angst, brief mention of cardia because shE IS NOISY, here comes the attempt at murder btw lol, here tho is not angst so enjoy?!, loads of angst because his route, probably some attempts of murder who am i trying to fool
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-28
Updated: 2016-06-28
Packaged: 2018-07-18 14:24:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,649
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7318801
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheStarsHaveAligned/pseuds/TheStarsHaveAligned
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This was probably the furthest from a delightful soirée Saint Germain had in mind that night.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Seeker

“It seems your little rabbit is being naughty tonight.”

The crystal chandelier hanging from the ceiling trembled as the ceiling did, its small pieces clinking in an acute melody, and in the silence that followed this declaration the muffled sound of furniture being tossed around in the upper floor surrounded the downstairs dinning room. Saint Germain softly sighed before delicately placing his china cup back to its plate, then slyly smiling to his guest

“And what brought you here, if I may ask?”

This was probably the furthest from a delightful soirée Saint Germain had in mind; not that bringing Cardia food when she was his unwillingly captive made him _all_ the happier, but this, well.

Supervision was not his cup of tea either.

Saint Germain narrowed imperceptibly his eyes to the young man sitting before him; he knew how sharp he was, despite the awkward first impression he gave. And he was not happy he had been the one to appear by his door tonight- a clear sign of Idea being omnipresent and willfully showing off how much they liked to have the upper hand.

Both men looked at each other, more than challenging, weighting up their situations. It was no secret Saint Germain had a very short temper hidden under that calm smile he showed to the world. But that young man sitting across him was not short of his own fuses either; after all, to be _appointed_ apostle of Idea you had to be _pretty_ special. The guest took a last lazy look at the tea cup sitting on the table before him, untouched and probably now cold, before leaning back into the sofa and gazing at Saint Germain.

“You surely must know that.”

“I beg forgiveness then for my ignorance, but I do not.”

They stared at each other, Saint Germain keeping his composed face and seemingly-like welcoming smile, while his guest showed an extremely bored one- close to being sleepy but far from it. Finally he sighed and looked at the ceiling for a second, as if pointing with his eyes, then looked back at Saint Germain.

“It is taking too long.”

Subtle, probably not. But Saint Germain cocked his head to the side, and not losing his cunning smile his icy blue eyes opened slightly.

“Oh, is it? And here I thought myself it was _entirely up to me_ how I handled this assignment.”

While being apostle from Idea was a pyramidal structure, most of the members belonged to the same category since they had similar aptitudes when it came to the duties they performed, even if the methods and strengths... varied; therefore the rule of never fighting each other, not just out of _comradeship_ , but also as means to avoid a full out fight in complete detriment of Idea's interests. And yet, that did not mean all apostles were in good terms one with another, just that following that rule of not fighting with each other was in their best interest when it came to siding with keeping their _lives_.

An interest balancing precariously here; had it not been because they both belonged to the same team, things could very easily escalate to an uncomfortable soiree of murder with all the cleaning that would later imply.

It was that rule precisely, together with years and years of self control, that was stopping Saint Germain from kicking that young man out of his home with more or less violence depending on how he behaved. Well, that and the fact that this man... this young man here well. He was _special_.

Saint Germain felt not _completely_ at ease facing this seemingly inoffensive young man sitting before him, who now looked more focused on the dust particles dancing in the moonlight than on the threat before him. Not because Saint Germain felt scared of him, but because he knew _nothing_ about him. This young man, who looked like he had just grown enough to reach things without tip-toeing, had been Idea's latest apostle to join, and was by far the most sadistic addition they had made in years. And that was something.

Saint Germain was the kind of man who took his sweet time handling things -even more since _then_ \- but could be very quick to act. Literally, very quick. And while he could have the utmost patience to stalk his preys, he was absolutely ruthless given the time if the wrong- _or right_ \- buttons were to be pressed. In a way, all the redeeming qualities as agent from Idea he had, could very quickly turn against the organization, and he was equally trusted and distrusted by some part of the rest of apostles even if he had the complete trust of their leader.

But this young man here, this slouching, lanky and seemingly fragile man was by no means someone to take lightly. Even with all the mystery that surrounded him and his methods, his missions were always a perfect. All he could lack in strength, all the inexperience years gave, was supplied by his speed and extreme cruelty given the opportunity. And the boy was completely, absolutely unrepentant. No matter who was the assignment, no matter the circumstances, he had no qualms and his methods were ultimately very, _very_ , sadistic were he to lose the string of patience, bordering a psychopathy that made his _preys_ die with a look of pure despair and agony.

So this young man sitting here, _carelessly_ leaning against the sofa and fidgeting with the strands of his hair as if this was no big deal, was a bigger threat than what he looked like, and Saint Germain knew.

“It is. But Omnibus wants this to be done as soon as possible. There are too many things that... could go wrong. I'm sure you know what I'm talking about, Saint Germain.”

That young man here, also, had a complete lack of respect for his seniors, a trait that only seemed to sit well with Omnibus, who had him as a gifted young and promising disciple she hoped to train -tame- in time. Not that Saint Germain ever cared about his fellows but.

His eyebrow twitched imperceptibly at how that youngster had nonchalantly pointed out not only that orders were orders, and that time was a precious thing, but also the records. The young man stared at Saint Germain somewhat daringly and what he earned was exactly what he would expect of such a challenge; Saint Germain's smile widened and his eyes opened completely, blue orbs giving back an amused look and effectively making the young man sit straight for the first time in that night.

“Oh believe me. You both- the entire organization- have nothing to fear; I'll be thoroughly done with this by tomorrow at midnight. You have my word.”

That was the equivalent to handing a death sentence written and signed. And yet, the unpleasant atmosphere was still sitting between them, all around. It was not just the fact that Saint Germain had been _told off_ without subtlety of what happened 500 years ago, but that this young man, a complete baby by all standards of time _living_ , had dared to put his work to doubt. Saint Germain felt personally insulted, aggravated, and that kid had not gotten the hint on when to stop _at all_.

“Your word is not what I want. I have better things to get concern with than your injured pride.”

This time the tension was almost tangible, and Saint Germain let the straw of patience he usually had well grasped run loose, showing for a moment he was close to lose it against the youngster's impertinence.

“'You'? Don't _you_ mean the organization?”

“Idea, me, you- we are all the same. One messes up, we all get fucked.”

Now it was time for Saint Germain to slightly narrow his eyes before quickly changing his expression to an almost menacing smile, disregarding as much as he could the disrespectful attitude of the man sitting across him, just a stride away from being stabbed through the chest.

“Is that so? Well then, as I already said, please rest assured. I'm nothing but a man of word. What I say I'll do, I do.”

And even though Saint Germain's voice was as friendly and cordial as always this time it was evident the hint of annoyance, the undertone, the strategy to mask his growing irritation. Thus as subtlety seemed to have been forcefully and completely pushed over the roof, the young man sitting before him decided to forsake it _for good_ too.

“Here though you seem to be taking some liberties. The organization had thought that once every evidence was gathered on how dangerous the homunculus girl was, you would proceed immediately. Despite that, she is still alive. And making ruckus upstairs.”

As if Saint Germain's blue yes were not enough warning, the young man kept tempting his luck, throwing wood to the already stacked fire that was Saint Germain's consuming patience.

“I have my methods, and they take time.”

As it was with the rest of apostles who had sinned to clean their own sins, Saint Germain was quite methodical with the way he dealt with his missions, always following a pattern, almost mechanically, something that was common knowledge to all apostles, and to Omnibus. Something that young man though had decided to obviate.

“I'm not here to tell you _how_ to do things, just to confirm you are doing them.”

The silence was tense as they glared at each other, now with clear animosity, testing the waters. It was obvious the young man had been informed on how much time Saint Germain had spent with the homunculus girl in that house, and shared the same suspicions Omnibus had that they could have bonded somehow, since this had been the longest Saint Germain had interacted with an objective without having killed them yet.

And so, with the waters rough as they were, and every time caring less and less about the boy being a fellow apostle and more of a nuisance, Saint Germain smiled crookedly.

“Are you trying to be subtle? Don't, please- I want you honest thoughts.”

And the young man fell head first.

“Well, then; have you taken an interest to the girl?”

For a moment Saint Germain's face was poker-like before he snickered, and then smiled cunningly.

“Oh, I have taken _an interest_. Who would not- artificial life is a concept we only dreamed of, and she has learned at a speed and in a way we could not have predicted. But there is nothing beyond that. Her _life_ will be over, and I'll present you her _heart_.”

“Is that so.”

The young man repeated Saint Germain's previous words, musing them, before his eyes betrayed him, an effect of his inexperience and youth, traveling briefly, just a split of a second, to his weapon sitting at the other side of the room. Saint Germain was now, more than ever, glad his ever present smile did not give away how delighted he was the boy was falling to his trap.

Now everything was crystal clear; he could read the young man as an open book now; even as his words had left no doubt, he had triggered something in the young man, making him feel something was off. It was obvious to someone as sly and experienced as Saint Germain what he was thinking now; the stark contrast between his calm and collected behavior and the noises upstairs, as if he was consenting this. The deadline. It all played now in his favor. At this point Saint Germain was sure the young man had come to the conclusion he _was_ consenting this. He could almost see his thoughts running in his young head:

_Is he playing with the girl? Is he playing with Idea? What if he plans to betray us? After all, there had been a precedent. And if he is... I must stop him._

Excellent. Do it. Give me a reason. Start this.

“Why not now, then? I could help you-”

It all was built to reach this conclusion, it all had followed exactly Saint Germain's train of thought. All herded towards this outcome. Just as the young man made the move to get up, just as his eyes traveled again to his weapon instead of looking at the potential threat that was Saint Germain, everything set in motion.

The young man barely had time to react; before his last words were out of his mouth he had the dagger Saint Germain kept hidden under his sleeve pressed against his throat. And Saint Germain's icy blue eyes piercing through him more than any knife would.

“Ah, but this is _my_ assignment. She is _my_ kill. _Mine_. I'm not about to let _you_ or anyone else step close to her.”

You could not say his offer had come from friendship or even comradeship, of course, so it wasn't as if the young man had been expecting Saint Germain to _wholeheartedly_ agree to it. But what he had not expected though, was to find death face to face, inches away from him, its claws ready to rip him off.

A rookie mistake; you don't take your eyes off the most lethal assassin an organization has, and man you've been challenging and offending all night. The young man came to his senses as a bead of sweat rolled down his temple; never mind Saint Germain had looked calm; he was the most skilled assassin the organization had, the stealthiest, and now, probably the most dangerous. If he wanted him dead, he had given him all the reasons to act.

The man swallowed as a natural reflex, and a line of blood ran down his neck from the place the blade was pressing against his throat, sharp enough to break his skin when he breathed, and barely not slicing through him. And then, in a swift and quick movement Saint Germain saved the blade again under his sleeve and smiled graciously.

“Tell Omnibus I don't need supervision. And don't you dare set foot here again.”

With the danger again a step away from him the young man could finally breathe and regain part of his composure despite his raging mixture of fright and anger, narrowing his eyes at Saint Germain as he rose from his seat and glared at his back.

“She is not yours, Saint Germain. Her life is a threat that should have been dealt with already.”

Not bothering to answer, Saint Germain stopped before the young man's weapon -a strange crafted giant fork-like shaped spear he was not sure if the younster used to bluntly hit or immobilize his assignments- and handed it back to him, an ever present smile on his face this time matching his mood.

“Now then, if you'll excuse me, it's late already. Give my regards to Omnibus.”

With a slap the young man took back his weapon and not sparing a last glance at Saint Germain directed his steps towards the front door, only stopping to deliver a last word.

“Don't test our patience Saint Germain; you are _not_ above and you don't set the rules: if the order is to kill, we kill, and if the order is to follow, we follow. I won't come here again unless I'm commanded, but you know _she_ might come after I do if we don't receive reports. We after all, obey Her will.”

And with this, the man took his coat and chains from the stand next to the door and closed it after him without a last look behind him or a proper goodbye.

Some moments passed before Saint Germain finally looked upstairs, a complicated expression on his face.

“Well then Miss Cardia, it seems I’m going to have to teach you how to behave; of all the people, I don't intend for _her_ to come reprimand me.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> oh boy it was love at first sight skdjfhdfj just knowing that death note-like youth was part of the fandisk i was like I MUST WRITE THIS. and here it is. the interpretation of the infamous "you've been noisy tonight miss Cardia" after moment in the Seeker chapter. I laughed a lot at it tbh, with Cardia being all like "Oh he must have heard me-" YOU THREW AROUND ALL THE FURNITURE OF THE ROOM OF COURSE HE HEARD YOU GIRL but I digresssss. I wonder how much of this dude's personality i got in character lol.


End file.
